Sins of the Father
by Andramalius
Summary: A tale of past mistakes and present danger. This is my first experimental full length story. It has been almost a year since I wrote chapter 23, so you may notice a little evolution in the writing style as the chapters progress.
1. Chapter 1

The column of soldiers trotted through Elwyn Forest at a steady pace. Their mounts kicked up a small cloud of brown dust around their feet as they headed towards the mountain ranges to the north. It was obvious to the farmers and peasants they rode by that they were fresh from Stormwind. Soldiers riding from Stormwind always had shining polished armor and groomed mounts. They were either new recruits or veterans coming off of furlough, in either case their faces did not look as grim as the soldiers coming from other directions…especially the west. To the east lay the Searing Gorge and Blackrock Mountain. Both places were the regions held in the iron grip of the Orcs. Not the shamanistic Orcs that followed Thrall to Kalimdor. No, these were the ones still gripped by demon madness and strength. They had been defeated by the Alliance, pushed back to one of the most desolate places on Azeroth, but their defeat was not complete. They now huddled in their mountains like caged lions, unable to escape and harm the human lands, but any that were foolish enough to enter their territory met with death.

The east was not what concerned these soldiers. They rode with their backs straight and with a look of battle lust on their faces. They fingered their lances and swords from time to time, eager to find their quarry and deal justice out in the name of the King.

They turned from the road at a marked point; a boulder had a red handprint on it, and charged through the thick woods. Their horses had a hard time managing the trees, and soon the soldiers found themselves jostled and slapped by numerous branches.

"Halt." Came a call from the lead horseman. His voice was solid as a mountain. He was a man that was assured that when he gave an order they would be followed. His name was Sir Sigmund Corsair and the shining silver hand imprinted on his metallic shield denoted to all that he was a member of the paladin order. When the soldiers stopped they turned to their leader for direction.

"We cannot push the mounts through this forest; we will be open to an ambush and at a disadvantage since we cannot maneuver. We dismount and send Scout Martin ahead.

A wiry looking man that rode the smallest of the horses swallowed. He dismounted lithely and gave a half hearted salute. He was little more than a boy, but he had signed up to join the armies of Stormwind as soon as he was of age. He was not nearly as big as the other men, but he was a skilled scout and knew his way with shadows and silence. The sun did not break through the thick foliage of the trees very well in these parts. That gave him many shadows to slink from, though he knew the Defias band would have lookouts of their own that knew these forests better than him.

Martin turned to the forest and within a minute had disappeared ahead. There was nothing to do for the rest of them except wait until he returned with the whereabouts of the criminals they sought. Sir Sigmund strode over to his second in command, a handsome yet middle aged soldier that had a slight limp in his right leg. He slapped his chest in salute when Sigmund approached him, but the paladin ignored it.

"These dogs will not fight fair, Sergeant Dellin. I do not expect your men to act the same. Kill them only if there is no other choice. Do not back away from using force, but if one of them asks for quarter, we will grant it."

Dellin nodded, but he cringed inwardly. Sir Sigmund was the commander of his platoon, a force of forty fighting men and women that were in charge of protecting the forests of Elwyn from invaders and criminals. Out of the four squads that served under Sigmund, the group of ten that accompanied them today was the most elite. Dellin was their leader and never had to relinquish command, until today. For some reason the paladin had decided to accompany his squad, which put him one peg down on the chain of command on this mission. He rarely gave quarter to an opponent after they had crossed blades with him, but the Knights of the Silver Hand were different. They were powerful warriors of light that followed a strict code of ethics both on and off the battlefield. He had no doubt that if he disobeyed his commander, he would be court marshaled and likely hung. He would do as he was ordered and make sure his men did the same. He turned to walk along the line of soldiers to pass Sigmund's command on.

Sir Sigmund did not doubt his command would be followed. The soldiers of Stormwind served the Knights with loyalty because the order had protected and led them for generations. There was a short time when the people eyed the paladins with suspicion after word of the Lorderanian prince's, Arthas, betrayal reached the city. But that faith had been restored when they heard of the battle fought by and the sacrifice of Sir Uther Lightbringer. Most of the commanders of Stormwind's army were Knights of the Silver Hand. That responsibility weighed heavy on Sigmund now. He had almost ordered a second squad with them on this mission, but the fight would be tight in the forest, and more men in plate mail would just bottleneck them in-between the trees during battle. Even brigands can be fierce opponents when they are fighting in their territory.

A bird call came from up ahead. It was Martin's signal that all was clear between him and the squad. They unsheathed their blades nonetheless and cautiously stalked forward to meet the scout.

To be continued in the next chapter…


	2. Chapter 2

Daniel Serendale walked among the tents of his gang jovially. They had just enjoyed an excellent score two days ago, having overtaken an ale merchant from Redridge and a sweets vendor from Stormwind within hours of each other. The men and women of the Defias band he was over were enjoying themselves immensely. It was a shame the ale vendor had to die, along with his two hired bodyguards, but then again, had he simply cooperated with Daniel's "request" he would still be alive. Poor, but alive. The two day drinking binge his companions were on would continue another day or so before the ale ran out, then the headaches would be stronger than the Burning Legion. He chuckled to himself as he picked his way past a man and woman that were joined at the mouth, each kissed the other as if the world were fixing to end.

He was a good gang leader, that's why Vancleef, the boss, had sent him so near to Stormwind. He had come with but ten others, but now their gang stood at a little more than twenty-five. What they lacked in battle skill they more than made up with their desire to grow rich under his leadership. He dodged passed two men that were play wrestling and nearly tripped over an empty beer flagon, but he soon managed to pick himself passed the center of the revelry.

He walked about twenty paces from the camp to a single green tent that stood on a small hill. He called out a warning that he was fixing to enter, and swept passed the tent's entryway.

Magg lay on a pile of silk pillows inside. She had been an attractive woman in her younger days, but those days had been a long time ago. Her hair was thin now, and gray. Not the white silver that was attractive on an older woman, rather the dirty steel color that one would expect to see on a crone. Magg was no crone though. Her body bore wrinkles, but she retained much of her youthful shapeliness. She had lived a hard life and seen much war. She wore a pair of leather breeches and a silk gray tunic that almost matched the color of her hair. When Daniel walked in she frowned a little more, if it were possible, and glared at him with light green eyes.

"What do you want, boy? As if the rabble in the camp were not enough, now you come to disturb me."

Daniel did not let Magg's words bother him, she was a cranky woman in general, and the revelry of the gang had only agitated her even more than usual.

Daniel bowed. "I am sorry, Lady Magg. I simply came to see if you need anything." He smiled generously the whole time he spoke.

She waved her hand as if to shoo him away like an insect. "Hah, come to make sure your pet warlock is content. You don't want your pet hound to turn on you, eh?"

Daniel did not like either her words or her tone, but she had acted this way frequently enough that he did not take her too seriously. Magg was anything but a hound. She had been a mage once, long before the third war had begun. She was a mage for the armies of Lorderan in the second war. She had not been very good at it, but even a novice mage can make the difference on a battle field. She had told Daniel that she had learned about warlock magic from the Orcs. She had been captured in a battle and brought to an Orc warlock to be destroyed. When the Orc realized she could converse in the Orcish tongue and was more than willing to sell out her regiment, he took it on himself to turn her into an agent of the Horde. She had done so for years, learning how to access the power of the Twisting Nether from her new master. When the Orcs were defeated she tried to go back to living a normal life among humans (she had never been revealed as a traitor), but she grew restless not being able to call on her powers in civilization.

Thus she put herself at Vancleef's services, and he in turn had put Magg under Daniel's command. She had never stopped believing she should be in charge, but they both knew the gang would never follow her orders if they could help it. They were as loyal to Daniel as a group of thieves, rapists, and murderers could be, but under her command they would run away at the first possible opportunity.

He tried to make his voice comforting, "I am sorry that the gang has bothered you. Would you like me to tell them to be quieter?" He tried to keep her as happy as possible. She was the only one in the gang that he could not afford to lose.

She sneered, "As if it would do any good, they are too drunk to listen…now if Sazteem were to tell them…"

Daniel gasped despite himself, "No, Magg…Voidwalkers are not known for their sociability. Better to just let them have fun until the ale wears off, then its back to business.

"Mistress!" squeaked an annoying voice from behind Daniel. He turned to see the black imp that served as Magg's lapdog. It looked like the crossing of an insect with a lizard. Two tiny horns set atop a shiny black scalp. His little angular mouth was filled with tiny razor sharp teeth, and it always looked like he was smiling.

Magg looked past Daniel to the imp. "What is it Lezzin, did another squirrel outwit you in a chase?"

If the comment hurt the imp's feelings he did not show it, "No, Mistress. We have a much bigger problem!"

Now Daniel's attention was fully on Lezzin as he continued, "I was bird hunting, nothing better to do out here, when I heard a bird I'd never heard before. So I went hopping along the tree limps until I saw the sun shine off of some metal. Soldiers! A bunch of em too, they'll be here in a matter of minutes!"

Daniel did not need to hear anymore. He ran out of the tent and began shouting orders. He doubted they would come out of this alive. He had been sloppy, allowing the whole gang to get drunk instead of staying strict on the lookout. Looking at the couple that had been kissing, he saw that they had removed most of their clothes and their armor and weapons were not even within reach. Slowly, the gang started drawing blades and crossbows, a couple ran to the tree stands and took post. All of them looked bleary eyed and tipsy. He kicked the man that was calling after the woman to come back for more kisses. She at least had the good sense to follow orders. Daniel drew his own blade and turned to go get Magg.

There was no need. She stood on the little hill with an excited glint in her green eyes. She held her gnarled wooden staff and looked ecstatic to have a chance to use it. She had dismissed Lezzin, who never was much help in battle, and the hulking muscled form of the voidwalker, Sazteem stood next to her. In looking at his warlock, Daniel felt slightly better they could survive…slightly.


	3. Chapter 3

Martin quickly related his reconnaissance to Sir Sigmund and Dellin. About forty Defias members drunk and unalert, less than a hundred paces ahead. Dellin became excited at the news. Drunk men rarely asked for quarter in battle.

Sir Sigmund spoke in less than a whisper, but every man stood still to hear their leader's orders. "Hand signals only until the battle begins. I want our three archers to start the assault, as the others run into the forest to stop the bowmen, we will be waiting. Martin says he saw no archers of their own on post, but I will not trust that." Seeing Martin's shamed expression, he explained. "Martin is the finest scout of our platoon, but these Defias are masters of hiding. Because of this I want the archers to keep an eye open on the trees. I do not want to lose half my men to arrows."

Sigmund used the forward hand signal and each man went into formation. Within minutes they had crouched up to the edge of the camp. The archers had thought they saw something in the tree at one point, hopping from limb to limb, but it had disappeared quickly and was no enemy bowman.

The battle was joined almost exactly as Sigmund had said. The Stormwind archers launched a small volley into the crowd of Defias, and they turned and ran into the forest. Each soldier had his share of fighting, almost three gang members to one soldier. But they were drunk enemies and Sigmund's soldiers were veterans and sober. The Defias began piling up like flies. One soldier fell under an arrow from above.

"Get those archers!" Sigmund yelled. First one, then a second archer fell from their trees, blue fletched arrows jutting from their throats.

Sigmund rushed to fight the gang members the fallen soldier had faced. He always carried a shining thorium shortsword and mithril buckler at his side, but for this task he hoisted the gleaming truesilver mallet from his back. It was heavy, too heavy for even a strong man to use effectively in battle, but Sigmund swung it as if it were an extension of himself. Blue sparks and blood spouted from the chest of the first man he struck with it. He turned from the corpse before it hit the ground and stopped a knife slash with his platemail bracer. The metal of the knife was old iron and it would do little more than scratch the enchanted thorium the paladin wore. Still, the knife wielder was apparently skilled and danced away from Sigmund's swipe. His eyes darted to Sigmund's right for only a fraction of a second, but it was enough to give his partner away. Rushing from behind Sigmund's peripheral vision came a large dirty man with a studded mace. He had meant to cave the side of Sigmund's head in while his attention was on the knife wielder.

His intentions were meaningless.

Sigmund jammed the end of his mallet into the fat man's stomach. He stopped short and gasped for air. Sigmund spun around faster than someone his age should have been able to and came down hard with the deadly end of the mallet. There was a sickening crunch sound and the man fell dead at the paladin's feet.

The knife wielder looked sick as he looked at his dead comrade. He turned his knife over in his hand and threw it at an incredible speed. Sigmund dodged it, but not quick enough. The blade cut into his cheek deeply and warm blood ran down his neck and into the inside of his armor.

"You will pay for that, boy!" Sigmund yelled. He ran after the knife wielder as he made a mad dash back to the camp. The battle was still raging in the forest around them, but his men were sure to win soon. He chased the man through the tents and smoldering campfires when suddenly a cold hammer hit him in the chest. He dropped to his knees. No, this was not a hammer, he knew this feeling. Dark magic.

He looked up to see an older woman on a hilltop nearby. She pointed a gnarled wooden staff at him.

"Well, paladin. Are you going to bow before me all day?" She laughed madly.

The battle continues in chapter 4


	4. Chapter 4

Daniel groaned as soon as the first arrows landed in camp. The soldiers meant to draw the gang into the forest where it would not be so easy to surround them. He cursed as he saw the strategy work despite his calls to pull back. He turned up to Magg, sure that she would call fire down on the forest in order to rid herself of the soldiers and the foolish gang members at the same time. She did not. She didn't do anything. She stood on the hill, waiting.

"What's wrong, Magg? There's a battle to fight!" He called.

She blinked as if her mind had been elsewhere, "Go fight your battle then, mine will come to me, I can feel his presence and know he will come to me soon."

Daniel didn't understand her at all, but then again, he never did. He pulled out his iron knife and ran into the forest. He grabbed Lan and Kristofel who were standing at the back of the fight. Lan was a decent swordsman and Krisofel was a skilled mace user. Unfortunately, both men had been drinking heavily and were going to be little more than battle fodder for him. He hated using people that way, but he had learned to survive by whatever means possible a long time ago. Soon a platemail clad soldier came around a tree swinging his blade with abandon. Kristofel, who was quite fat, met him first. He slammed his mace into the soldier's shoulder but received a kick in the shin for it. Kristofel tipped over into the bushes and the soldier staggered backwards. An arrow came from overhead and ended the soldier's life. Daniel had been prepared to jump on the man while he was dazed, but he was glad the archer had done the honors for him. He looked up to thank Derk for the help, but he was too late. Derk fell from the tree with a gurgle, an arrow protruding from his throat.

Daniel cringed. Most of these men were peasants that had been getting a raw deal from Stormwind's nobility. A life of crime had been their only way to survive. He hated seeing them die for that. Then again, they were a cold group of murderers too.

"What goes around comes around, I suppose." Daniel thought to himself.

Death came out of no where in the form of a muscled armored knight. His massive mallet smashed into Lan's chest so hard that he never had a chance of surviving. Without thinking Daniel leaped forward, knife coming down on the back of the paladin's neck. The old man was fast, he turned and blocked the strike with his bracer and tried to take Daniel's head off with the oversized hammer. Daniel was already on the balls of his feet backstepping and the blow never came close.

Daniel could tell it annoyed the paladin, and the man took a confident stride towards him. Kristofel came sneaking up behind the paladin. This was going to be a short fight and a story even Van Cleef would enjoy.

Somehow the paladin saw it coming, he jammed the butt of his mallet into Kristofel's gut and spun around swinging. Kristofel's head practically exploded under the strike. Blood, bone, and brain matter splattered across the green floor of the forest. Daniel lurched, feeling that he was about to throw up. He had seen some nasty things in his life, but that was especially disgusting. Disgust gave way to his internal instincts. He spun his knife in his hand and flung it at the paladin as fast as he could. He had once pinned a squirrel to a tree by its tail using that trick. He managed to hit the paladin, but not enough to take him down. His men were dying and he was out of weapons, his longsword back in his tent, so he ran.

He heard the paladin running behind him, calling something about paying. He dashed between the tents and hopped over fires, all in the mad hope he could escape death.

He heard a grunt and turned to see Magg using her magic on the man. For the first time in the last fifteen minutes, Daniel felt some relief. If anyone could handle the paladin it was Magg. Daniel ran towards his tent to retrieve his longsword. When he got it he ran back towards Magg. He was just in time to save her life.

Continued in Chapter 5


	5. Chapter 5

Sigmund rose to his feet. He should have felt her presence as she had obviously felt his. In the heat of battle he had ignored it as his imagination, but there she was in the flesh. The woman that had killed his brother.

"Mageline. I thought I had left you dead in Hillsbrad." He growled as he spoke.

Her laugh was like a scrape on a blackboard. "Because you're a fool, Sigmund. Just as your brother was. You have no idea the powers I possess, but you soon will."

A blow hit him from behind that felt like a hammer bigger than his own. His enchanted platemail kept his spine from being snapped, but he knew his back would be purple when the fight was over. He spun to face the man that had struck him from behind only to back several steps away at the sight of the massive black blue figure of the voidwalker. Its face bore no expression, but it advanced on Sigmund with an air of power that was both dark and cold at the same time.

Sigmund regained his composure quickly. His mallet swung under his arms and came up to strike the voidwalker under its chin so hard that a chunk of its face broke away. The chunk disappeared as if it were made of mist, and the voidwalker staggered oddly.

A bolt of black magic struck Sigmund in his back. The magic of Mageline ignored his armor for the most part. His flesh seared and he felt parts of his skin popping with heat blisters, though the bolt itself was cold as ice. The half faced voidwalker advanced on him eagerly. Already Mageline was beginning the casting of another vicious spell.

Sigmund called on the Light. His body was filled with it, it tingled his skin and surrounded him like a wall. The voidwalker hit him as hard as it could. The blow might as well have been on the side of a mountain for all the good it did. The Light held. A volley of shadow bolts raced from Mageline's fingertips, each one slamming alternatively into his shield, but nothing could break the Light. Within the bubble of holy power, Sigmund opened himself up to the healing power of the Light. His back stopped hurting, his aches and pains receded, and soon he was at full strength again. He let the light go, and before the voidwalker could react he brought the glowing mallet head down on its skull. There was a hiss like hot metal being submerged in water, and then the whole of the demon evaporated into the air.

Sigmund turned to deal with Mageline, but he was too late. A green tendril of magic extended out from her hands and wrapped around his chest. He pushed forward, but he felt like he was moving against a wave of water…or mud. Each step took all his effort, and each second he felt energy drain from him. He would never reach her in time.

Then he saw Dellin. The second in command came over the hill, his armor stained in blood and his sword drenched in it. He meant to pierce her through, but she saw him from the corner of her eye at the last moment. His strike cut into her dress slightly, not drawing any blood, but distracting her enough for the spell to cease. Sigmund ran forward.

Dellin raised his sword high above Mageline. He called for the soldier to hold, not for any care about the warlock, but because he needed to avenge his brother's death. Dellin either did not hear or ignored his command. The blade fell as Mageline screamed defiantly.

To be continued in the next chapter…


	6. Chapter 6

Daniel charged forward with his shining longsword in the lead. His blade met that of the soldier straddling Magg's prostrate form and kept the soldier's blade from cleaving her in two. The man was surprised and was not prepared when Daniel pushed their crossed blades high and kicked the man in the gut. It hurt like hell to kick him, the platemail kept it from actually hurting the soldier, but it did push him off balance and he fell to the dirt. Daniel was on him in the blink of an eye, his blade laid across the prone man's neck. The soldier eyed the blade at his throat with cold fear in his eyes. He did not move.

He yelled down to the advancing paladin, "Back off, paladin, or your soldier here will die by my hands!"

The knight stopped in his tracks, glaring at both Magg and Daniel with fury etched on his rugged face. What was familiar about that face? Daniel had not took notice of the man's face during battle, being more concerned with avoiding that hellish mallet, but now that time froze for a moment…he felt that he knew this man, though that was impossible.

If the man saw something familiar about Daniel he did not show it. "Put your blade away, ask for quarter, and I shall take you to jail…and not send you to the afterlife."

Daniel was surprised he found the offer intriguing. The sounds of battle were almost gone from the forest, his men were either dead, fleeing, or too wounded to move. The soldiers would come to the camp any moment and once they surrounded him he would have little hope of escape.

"And Magg?" Daniel said, glancing at her for a moment. She had risen and now stood with her staff clenched in a tight grip. Her face held rage and hatred mixed together.

"That's Mageline you mean, boy. She is an agent of the Burning Legion, no friend to Stormwind or the Defias gang." The paladin's words were spoken with confidence. Daniel had an ear for catching lies, even from the best of liars, but he could not detect any quavering in the paladin's voice now.

Magg cooed, "Do not listen to him, Daniel Ferentide. His kind view all warlocks as slaves to the Burning Legion. They are too blinded by their _Light_ to see that we are the masters of them." The way she spat the word "Light" sent a chill down Daniel's spine.

"So no quarter for her?" Daniel asked, still pressing the sword blade against the soldier's neck.

"None." The paladin replied flatly.

Under his breath, Daniel whispered to Magg, "Can you get us out of here? We are sitting on stalemate now, but when the rest of his soldiers get here it will be game over for us."

It was obvious by her expression that she agreed, but did not want to. She nodded.

She turned and waved her hands for a moment over the prone soldier's body. He immediately broke into a sweat and turned red, as if exposed to a massive amount of heat.

"Save your man, Sigmund. His blood boils as we speak, tarry to long and he is lost." She said it all with a smile on her face that took ten years off her looks.

She pulled Daniel's sleeve and they both ran into the forest.

A few moments passed where all they heard was their own heavy breathing and heavy footsteps on the ground, but soon the plodding of armored boots and the yells of soldiers followed.

They had a few minutes up on their pursuers, but knew that wouldn't last long.

"Stop here!" yelled Magg. Daniel hesitantly obeyed, eyeing the direction they had just came nervously.

She did not pause to explain, she immediately began a complex spell that Daniel had seen her cast on several occasions. A small purple pentagram appeared on the ground, and from it sprang the imp Lezzin.

"Yes, mistress?" It hissed upon entering their world.

"Start a fire, Lezzin. Give those soldiers a bigger problem to worry about."

The imp darted away with fire on his fingers and a spring in his step.

Continued in the next Chapter…


	7. Chapter 7

Sigmund poured the power of the Light into Dellin. Mageline's heinous magic was literally boiling the man from within. He called on his faith to counteract the magic. At first there was no response and Dellin convulsed and shook, blabbering incoherently the whole time. Just as Sigmund's mental strength was about to give up, the sweating stopped and Dellin fell into a deep slumber. Worn and tired but healed nonetheless.

Sigmund could not even stand; he had used all of his energy to save Dellin. Magg (as the boy named Daniel had called her) had grown much more powerful in the last six years. What she was doing here in the hills of Elwyn Forest with the Defias gang, he could only guess at.

Soldiers had gathered around him as he had fought Dellin's curse. They were covered in blood, dirt, and sweat but had the look of triumph in their eyes. He sadly noted that there were only eight of them. The others must have perished in battle.

He came to his senses after a moment, "What are you standing here for! Into the forest! Find them!"

Martin the scout took the lead and soon the men were charging into the forest.

When he realized he was alone, he wondered out loud. "Ferentide? Could it be?" There was something in that young man's eyes he had seen before.

He dully realized that he could not afford to stay on the ground. He uncorked a bottle of spring water and drank heavily. He pressed it to Dellin's lips as well, but he was still unconscious and would probably remain so for several hours.

Sigmund stood to his feet and was horrified at what he saw a moment later. A black pillar of smoke twisted into the air like a great black serpent over the forest.

"Mageline, what have you done?" He muttered.

He rushed into the forest towards the smoke. Adrenaline pushed his body on faster than it was capable of in its exhausted state. He could already feel some of his energy returning thanks to the water. After a few moments of running, he came to the fire. It was blazing high, but already his soldiers were working on it. A small pond was nestled in the forest almost a hundred paces from where the trees burned. The soldiers passed helmets filled to the brim back and forth like a fire brigade. Their efforts could not stop the flames, but it could at least keep them from spreading to the base of other trees.

The tops of the trees were another problem. A gust of wind blew burning leaves into other tree tops. Soon the fire had doubled and Sigmund's men were running away from the blaze.

His face illuminated in the red glow of flame, Sigmund said, "Light help us all."

Continued in the next chapter…


	8. Chapter 8

Daniel stared in disbelief at the roaring flames that ate away at the green of Elwyn Forest. It hurt his sensibilities that the trees were burning, though the practical side of his mind knew it had to be done in order to buy their escape. The fire served as a diversion to the Stormwind soldiers and would cover their tracks well, but the forest had been his home for over a year now.

Magg lay on the ground gulping a canteen of water. She looked frail and worn, but Daniel had seen her like this before. He knew it was only because her spellwork had drained her strength. Soon she would be ready to move on, and by this time tomorrow she would be at full power again.

"You called that paladin _Sigmund_. Magg, how did you know his name?"

She turned an angry glare at him, "It is no concern of yours, boy. The only reason I don't strike you dead here is because Van Cleef will want to do it himself! I told him placing a pup like you in charge would end us in ruin!"

Daniel was hurt by her words. She had always been moody, but he did not realize the extent of her jealousy until now. He knew Van Cleef probably wouldn't kill him, since Magg was still alive and she was the most valuable member of this arm of Defias. The men getting drunk and getting killed was their own fault. The Defias followed their leader, but Daniel found out a long time ago that gang leaders that deny their members booze and women ended up with a knife in their back. Van Cleef knew it too and probably wouldn't care, especially after Daniel delivered the warlock and the chest of gold he had set aside for the boss.

"Speaking of Van Cleef, that's where we are heading. Its two days of riding on that hell horse of yours in order to make it back, probably four since we will need to stay clear of the roads for most of the way."

Magg pulled her thin hair back in a pony tail. "So quick to go get your head chopped off?"

Daniel waved his arm at her, "You're just angry your void walker got his whispy tail handed to him. By the way, you're welcome for saving your life!"

Magg laughed to herself, Sazteem would be alive and well the next time she called on him.

She dismissed Lezzin as soon as the imp returned. He wasn't happy about it, but she did not trust him to stop setting fires when they resumed their journey. He was quite the pyromaniac once he got started.

The fires blazed below and were growing exponentially. Soon a whole section of Elwyn would be as black as the Searing Gorge. Before Magg could enjoy a laugh at the forest's expense, a charcoal gray cloud appeared from nowhere high above the trees. It rained… it poured water down upon the fire. Within minutes the blaze was smoldering, and though many trees had been destroyed, the fire would not be spreading any further.

Daniel was already pulling Magg's travel sack onto his shoulder. She bit her lip both at what the isolated shower might mean and the fact that Daniel was so close to her prized possession. She turned from him, knowing that throwing a fit about him touching the bag would just inspire him to snoop around in it later. She thought about killing him and moving along on her own, but he knew the forest better than her and would serve as another layer of defense if Sigmund attacked again.

Sigmund. It had been a long time since her old lover had seen her face. She knew her beauty had withered away in her quest for more and more power, but now that the battle was over her old feelings for him covered her mind like a silk sheet.

A rusty jagged knife cut that sheet. He had been a womanizer and left her without a second word. He had used her and thrown her aside like the bone of a steak. He had not even finished licking his fingers when he had picked up another. She discovered much later that he was known for deeds like this as well as his many heroics. She had made her mind up to show him she was not like his other whores. She tore the pretty head off his young brother and set it on a spike.

No. Whatever sweet memories came as she thought about her relationship with the paladin, she knew his true nature. And now he knew hers.

She began muttering in a dark and harsh tongue. The ground turned purple as glyphs and symbols appeared in the air. A low moan filled his ear making Daniel's face flush.

Satarra had arrived.

CONTINUED IN THE NEXT CHAPTER….


	9. Chapter 9

_22 years before…_

The towering heights of Lorderan could be seen overlooking the lush trees of Trisfal Glades. The Spring season had come on in full force and color and life coursed through the whole of the countryside. Mageline took it all in with a satisfied expression on her face. She loved riding her horse through the forest. Her friends in the Order of Magi teased her that if her magic skills were half as good as her horse riding skills they would call her Master. It wouldn't have been so funny if it wasn't true.

She rode with abandon down the dirt path the army had made through the woods. Her deep black hair whipped around her angular face. She had just passed her thirtieth year, but did not look a day past her twenty-first.

She enjoyed the scenery while she good. The reports from the scouts and diviners all agreed. The Horde would land in two days. They had constructed massive battleships to carry them from the defeated lands of Azeroth, and now their vicious sights were set on her homeland. The remnants of Azeroth's army had come to be helped by their neighbors, and Lorderan had answered the call.

She wanted to see Sigmund before her unit dispatched to the northeast shoreline. She was part of a small group that was merely placed to discourage an attack from that direction. The Horde would not be landing there of course, it would require a massive amount of overshooting the nearest shore to land there, and it was too far from the capitol to be worth using as a landing point. Nevertheless, a small force placed there would discourage whatever temptation the strip of beach might be to the Orcs and their allies.

Sigmund was all that was on her mind at that moment. For months he had courted her and wooed her. His ways were strange, he was a young knight in the Paladin order from Stormwind. He had seen his country fall to the Horde and was eager to face them again alongside of Lorderan's military. They had met in the capitol and she had been infatuated with him from the start.

He was everything the fairy tales said about heroic knights. It had been nearly a week since they had become lovers. He had been sent directly north of the capitol to bolster the forces of a major defense tower on that shore the morning after. She wanted to see him again before they were separated by duty for so long a time.

She exited the woods and was amazed by the sheer number of tents that were set up on the beach. They were of all makes and models. There were of course the standard human tents that were pointed and cloth. There were the thick leather tents favored by the dwarves. The elves slept in trees and under the stars, so there were no tents for them. The most eye catching were the tents of the gnomes though, small but metal, and with little boxes on the side that changed the air temperature to a comfortable chill as it passed through the box into the tent.

She spotted Sigmund's with no trouble. It was crimson and bore both the banner of Azeroth and his family crest on it. He had told her how when the war was over she would travel back with him to Stormwind, and that would be their home for much of the journey…together.

She dismounted quickly and ran to the tent without a pause. She wanted the girlish grin to disappear from her face, but it would not. Her cheeks burned with excitement and her lips hurt from the strain of her smile.

It all faded as soon as the tent opening was parted.

Sigmund was laughing and rolling under his sheets. He was not alone. An elven girl of indeterminable age giggled with him.

They both stopped when Mageline entered. The girl looked angry at the intrusion. Sigmund looked stunned. He started to stammer something, but Mageline wouldn't hear it. She turned and walked back to her horse, hot tears welling up in her eyes. She had never loved a man before…never. As her mount galloped off she saw from the corner of her eye Sigmund running out of his tent with his breeches on. She did not stop.

_Continued in the next chapter…_


	10. Chapter 10

The flames from the fire were so hot that Sigmund's men were drenched in sweat as they regrouped and worked in vain to push the blaze back. He was not worried about himself, though he stood close to the flames. He called upon the power of the Light to place an aura of protection around him. He used it to run into the flames and cut down the smaller trees with an axe one of the men carried with him.

For all their effort, the paladin knew that the forest was lost. They could slow the blaze down a bit if they we're lucky, but it was like wrapping linen over a snake bite.

They did not notice the dark clouds overhead, surrounded by smoke as they were. They did notice the rain though. For a few seconds the drops fell lightly, hissing in protest as they splattered into the burning copse of trees. Seconds later a flood of water rushed down on the woods, drenching them all and dousing the flames with one short deafening hiss.

The sky overhead crackled with lightening for a moment, then dissipated leaving the clear sky that had been there before.

"Stand ready, men! There's magic afoot!"

Sigmund's orders were followed by the ringing of steel from hilts. Sigmund did not believe that the person that ended the fire was an enemy to them, but if they thought his troops were responsible for the blaze then there might be a fight borne out of misunderstanding.

A silky voice purred from the treetops behind them. "At ease, soldiers of Stormwind. I can only kill half of you, though my brother would take care of the other half."

Her voice sounded playful, but with a serious edge to it. The speaker was a slender and beautiful (there were few that were not so) night elf. She alighted from the thick tree limb she had been perched upon and smiled at them all with a pearly grin. Her light purple skin and sharp features were exotic and intriguing to the men, as their returned smiles demonstrated.

"I am Ellana, I presume you are their leader?" Her question was directed at Sigmind.

He nodded. "I am, Lady Ellana. I am Sir Sigmund Corsair, but you may call me what you wish if your smile never fades so long as I see your face."

She giggled at him. It was quite entrancing.

"Ahem." Came a deep voice from behind Ellana.

She looked abashed as she said, "Oh yes, my brother, Cepharion!"

Cepharion was taller than Ellana by a handspan, and he was nearly as muscular as Sigmund. The paladin could tell right away that he was a druid, and a powerful one at that. He had little contact with the Night Elves, but they were becoming more common to the streets of Stormwind in these last three years. He had talked with one of their kind at an inn one night. He knew a little about them from this conversation and could tell by the budding antlers on Cepharion's head that he was close to the power of nature.

If there was anything magical about Ellana he could not see it. She wore a silver longsword on her belt and a curved bow on her back. A quiver of arrows hung from her shoulder, her belt, and an interesting set of arrows were strapped to the outside of both quivers. Some were bright red and some were bright blue, but they all looked deadly.

"I thank you for coming to our aid, friend elves. We are in your debt."

Cepharion nodded slightly. "You are a man of great power, Sir Sigmund Corsair. I can sense as much about you. In our haste to reach this blaze we passed a battle site where many dead lay, and one lay unconscious. Why did you leave your injured behind, and how did this blaze start?"

There was no accusation in his tone, so Sigmund took no offense. He told them the account of what had taken place. While they spoke Ellana started looking around the area. By the time they were done she was running back to where they stood.

"I found it. They headed for the hilltops. If we make haste we can catch them by morning!"

Sigmund was relieved, he truly had despaired of any hope of finding them after the blaze.

"Thank the light for both of you. Martin, lead the men back to the battle site. Collect what you can, take Dellin back safely, and leave two behind to care for the dead. The rest of you get back to the horses and get reinforcements. I want the rivers and roads blocked. They will no doubt want to return to their leader and I will not have them waltzing passed us on their way. Go!"

The men moved into gear. He could tell by their expressions that they did not want to leave him to continue on without them, but he knew they would only get in the way. Despite her newfound power, he still knew he could defeat Mageline if he was prepared. Having the Night Elven brother and sister with him would only further solidify his advantage.

Ellana was already in the lead as Cepharion and Sigmund ran after.

Continued in the next chapter…

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	11. Chapter 11

For two days Daniel and Magg had run through Elwyn Forest from their pursuers. The succubus, Satarra, had been invaluable during this time. She could meld into shadows magically and had been able to keep the pair posted on the progress of Sigmund and the two night elves.

Daniel was not happy about their progress. The elves were uncanny in their ability to follow a trail. He did everything he could to cover their tracks, and he was no novice at this, but to little avail. Every hour the gap between them and the paladin grew smaller.

Despite their difficult situation, including a torrential rain storm the night before, Magg's attitude towards Daniel had improved a little. Perhaps she realized his importance to her survival, or perhaps the time they were spending together was warming her up to him. Irregardless, there had been no more talk of his beheading or dismemberment. Daniel considered that a good thing.

They were standing at a river that flowed quickly and muddily due to the previous night's rain. Magg sat on a stump, looking disheveled and tired. Daniel was again amazed as he caught a glimpse at her. She was much older than him, but she must have been a stunningly beautiful woman in her younger days. She did not look like an old crone like the warlocks he remembered hearing about in his days in the orphanage. He considered what the situation might be like for them if Magg was a little younger and he a little older. His face started to flush and he turned away.

A throaty whisper was suddenly in his ear. "You look flustered, Daniel. Do you need someone to _talk_ to about it."

He whirled around in time to see Satarra standing there. Her leathery wings folded over her slender white shoulders. Her ivory fangs stuck out over ruby red lips in a caricature of a smile. Daniel did not like the way she spoke to him. She was an attractive creature, but it was the type of attraction a moth had for the flame. If Sazteem unsettled Daniel a little, than Satarra positively unnerved him.

Magg jumped to her feet. "Well, Satarra. What of it? Where are the paladin and the elves?"

Satarra looked at Daniel for a moment longer before looking to her mistress. She purred, "Not far, mistress Magg. Perhaps an hour at the most. Your trap did not slow them down for long I'm afraid."

Magg cursed. "Daniel, I have one last trap I can lay for them, but we need to get as much space between us and them as we can. While I prepare, I leave it to you to contemplate the best way to do that."

"Can't you just have Lezzin set another fire?" Daniel was ready to see the succubus dismissed.

"Don't be a fool, boy. The druid will put it out in seconds. This trap will be a little more effective in any case." She turned and walked to the edge of the forest and began chanting.

Satarra sprang into the air and disappeared from sight. Magg must have telekinetically communicated instructions to the succubus. Daniel was happy to see her fly off.

He walked over to the river and knew right away what their escape route would be. Their would be no tracks to follow if they rode the river down to Westfall. Once they crossed the borders into Westfall the strong presence of the Defias Brotherhood would protect them. The Defias following in Westfall was much more than a simple gang of thugs. They were political and social rebels that sought to overthrow the mockery of the monarchy and bring choice to the people of Azeroth. Daniel's mission had been to help stir unrest in the forests surrounding the capitol. He was one of a handful of young brotherhood members that had been given such a commission by Captain Van Cleef. He had done his job well until Sigmund and his troops had arrived. The Knights of the Silver Hand were a constant thorn in the side of the Defias Brotherhood. He wanted an opportunity to kill the paladin, but knew the limits of his abilities. If it were a simple matter of sword fighting he felt he had a fair chance, but the paladins did not fight fair. He would be dead in a matter of moments if he tried to face the paladin down on his terms.

Daniel let his thoughts flow away like the leaves on the river. He set about finding ropes and wood to build the raft he would need to get Magg and him to safety.

Magg sought the power of the Twisting Nether. Every spell she had ever cast as a warlock had required this. Depending on the power of the spell she would either barely touch the sickly sweet pool of chaos or submerge her very soul in its cold fires. She was covered in those fires in that moment.

She called on the power of the Nether to fill the earth under their feet with fire, and to hold that fire until her enemies stepped upon it. She became vaguely aware of another sensation surrounding her in the chaos. Fear.

Her heart began to pump rapidly, and warm sweat ran down her spine. She opened her eyes to the chaos around her. She saw stretching for countless ages the plane of existence which held the most vile creatures in existence. Her tutors had always told her to never look long into the endless madness of the Nether, but something now compelled her to look. Her heart almost stopped as a dark form rose above her head.

She knew her corporeal body was still in the woods of Elwynn and that she could not be physically harmed where she was, but if her heart stopped here it would stop in her real body as well. For the first time in her life she looked upon a Pit Lord.

"Ha ha ha!" It laughed with a glutteral frog voice. "Your terror is delicious! I wonder if your flesh compliments it well?" Again it laughed its deep and horrible laugh.

Magg tried to close her eyes but could not. She commanded her body to stop chanting so she could escape, but again she could not. She was dwarfed in the shadow of the Pit Lord.

"I am Mantorg, female. I am your god."

Hot tears ran down her face and her knees buckled.

He roared so loud her ears rang. "Confess it, worm!"

"You are my god! You are my god!" She repeated in a barely audible voice.

Mantorg nodded his massive head. "I have a job for you, Mageline. And you will perform it well for me."

Continued in the next chapter…


	12. Chapter 12

Ellana fingered the twisted branch inbetween her slender fingers. She looked behind her where her brother and Sir Sigmund followed behind. They kept fifty paces behind her at all times, trusting her to have a better eye for traps than they did. The warlock they sought had left just such a nasty trap for them earlier that day, and it was almost too late when they realized the toxic fumes exuding from stones in the clearing they had followed the trail through. Cepharion had called upon the wind to dismiss the deadly miasma and Sigmund had used the Light to purge any harmful effects from their bodies.

Ellana had not liked the manner in which he laid his hands upon her during that healing. He was appropriate, but barely so. He was a good man and a powerful agent of the Light, but his advances were unwanted. She put it out of her mind and focused her attention on the twig again. They were less than an hour ahead.

"Within the hour we will face them." She called to the two men.

Sigmund turned to Cepharion and asked if he needed a rest before they fought the warlock.

"No, Sir Sigmund. So long as I walk in the forest I need little rest. I wonder though, are you prepared to face the woman?"

This set Sigmund back a bit. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"Every time this Mageline has been brought up between us your demeanor has changed. It seems to me that you hate this woman and I fear your judgment will not be sound when we face her."

The words stung the paladin deeply. He moved a step forward and seemed taller than Cepharion, though the night elf was nearly seven feet tall.

"Yes. I do hate her." He said it matter-of-factly, with little anger evident in the statement. "She killed my brother because I wounded her heart. I have sworn an oath to repay her for her sins."

"So you have been hunting her?" Cepharion's question was more of a statement.

Sigmund looked away for a moment. He replied, "Yes. I was asked to lead an entire battalion to the Blasted Lands and fight the remnants of the Burning Legion there. I turned the commission down and selected the lowly duty of guarding the forest of Elwynn because I discovered Mageline had been in the region. I did not expect to see her with the Defias, but so she was, and here we are now." His voice grew low. "When my oath is payed I will go to the Blasted Lands and lead my people to victory. But I cannot go so long as she draws breath."

There was a heavy silence for several moments. Only the gentle breeze and the rustling leaves were heard among the three companions.

Ellana broke the silence. "Did you love her once upon a time?"

Sigmund stared at her for a moment. He answered with a hint of remorse in his voice, "I have loved many women, m'lady. Mageline was one of them."

The answer would have to suffice. Sigmund walked towards the direction the trail led and did not turn to wait for the Night Elves.

Ellana and Cepharion watched him go for a moment, and then picked up the trail behind him.

Continued in the next chapter…


	13. Chapter 13

Daniel was almost done with the makeshift raft when Magg stopped her casting. Her face was white as a sheet and she shook a little. Daniel wanted to ask her what was wrong, but he felt like he would not like the answer if he did ask.

"Um, Magg? Don't worry. We will head downstream, get to Westfall as soon as possible."

She snapped her gaze onto him, "You have no idea what fills my heart with dread, boy!"

She looked up in the sky and Daniel followed her gaze. Satarra landed gracefully, folding her long wings over her shoulders.

"Westfall is blocked, mistress. The river is being patrolled, you will never make it." The succubus looked at Daniel like a dog might look at a bone when she was done speaking.

"Then we cannot go downstream." Magg said matter-of-factly.

Daniel cursed. "Well we can't keep running and we can't turn back either!"

Magg's face softened. "Do not fear Daniel Ferentide. I will keep you safe."

Daniel did not like her self deprecating tone. He was the leader, or had been, of a large gang. He was young, but not a boy, and he knew how to use his blades and wits better than most. He wanted to believe that he didn't need the warlock to keep safe, but in the end he knew it was on her shoulders to deliver him from their pursuers. His shoulders slumped a little.

"Ok Magg, what is your plan?" His voice was resigned.

She walked to the edge of the waters. Satarra disappeared with a disappointed look on her face. "We go upstream."

Daniel laughed out loud. "Your're joking right? We couldn't fight that stream even with Sazteem helping with the paddles."

She began chanting softly. As she cast her spell in the harsh tongues of demons, the water began to boil. White and gray debris began surfacing in the water and coalescing at the edge. Daniel nearly vomited when he saw the debris up close. It was fish. Hundreds of them, dead and mostly bones, but they had come together under Magg's power. Within minutes the undead school of fish had formed a makeshift raft larger than Daniel's traditional one. Magg stepped on it.

Daniel hesitated but knew they were losing precious time. He followed her example. To his shock the raft began to vibrate. He looked down and saw the bony tails of the fish whipping madly in the water. Tirelessly they wiggled in the water until their collective strength overpowered the stream. Soon Magg and Daniel were on their way north.

Daniel looked at Magg's expression. She looked ecstatic. Her gaze was fixed on the distant mountains to the northeast and a girlish smile rested on her face.

"Magg, is there something in the mountains that will help us?" He asked.

After a few moments of silence (except for the churning of the undead raft) she replied, "Oh yes, Daniel. Something that will help us more than you can know."

Continued in the next chapter…


	14. Chapter 14

Ellana was able to follow the trail all the way up the river's edge. She grunted in frustration when she realized that they had made their escape downstream. Cepharion placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Do not worry, sister. They have eluded us temporarily, that is all." His words did little to make her feel better, but she appreciated his attempt to alleviate her frustration.

Sir Sigmund joined them. "If they went downstream they are as good as caught. I have dozens of soldiers guarding this route, not even Mageline will be able to overpower those odds."

Ellana turned to face Sigmund. "Who is the other human we chase? You have told us enough about the woman, but what about the one you called Daniel?"

Sigmund looked into her shining eyes for several moments. "I do not _know_ much about him. Yet, I fear I may owe him much."

Cepharion looked puzzled, "How does a man of honor owe a criminal anything?"

Sigmund's proud voice strained ever so slightly. "I knew someone by the name of Ferentide once. It was nearly 25 years ago."

Ellana stared intently at him, looking for the cause of his sudden change of tone. "So you may have known a relative of his?"

Cepharion was older and wiser than his sister, thus he understood more quickly what caused Sigmund his pained expression. "He is your son." It was not a question.

Sigmund sighed deeply. "I am not able to produce offspring. At least that is what my physicians have told me my entire life. Perhaps that knowledge has caused me to be so frivolous in how I deal with women."

Ellana's face sprouted an angry edge.

Sigmund continued, "It was during the first Orcish war. I was a young knight that knew how to swing a blade and cast a small healing spell and not much more. We had faced enemies in the land in the past, the occasional troll tribe in the south getting out of hand, or gnolls and kobolds attacking caravans from time to time. Nothing could have prepared us for the Horde."

Cepharion and Ellana listened intently.

"It all started out as rumor. Green beasts that walked like men attacking distant farms and small settlements. We in the Azerothian army assumed we were dealing with trolls of some sort and responded with a moderate force deployed to the east. The Horde rolled over us like a river. I lost some of my best friends that day and had the shame of calling a retreat, leaving their bodies to be desecrated by the Orcs."

A tear gathered at Sigmund's eye but he turned his head and wiped his eyes. When he turned back to face the elves his expression was under control again. "Many young people today don't realize how the war between the Horde and Alliance began. It began as an invasion from the Orcs into Azeroth. They attacked Stormwind nearly a week later, but we were ready for them. Our cavalry rode them down quickly and without mercy, their numbers were decimated and we celebrated like mad."

Ellana interrupted, "I thought the Orcs burned the first Stormwind to the ground in that war."

"Oh, that they did!" Sigmund replied, "But not that time. They came back nearly six months later with a force so large not even the whole of our army could keep them back. But for a little while after their first attempt we felt safe and secure that the threat had been defeated."

Cepharion asked, "Is that when you met Lady Ferentide?"

Sigmund chuckled, "She was not a lady of the court if that is what you mean. She was every bit the noble woman though. If I have ever loved a woman it was her. We met the night after our victory in the streets of the city. She wore flowers in her hair and danced along with all the joy in the universe in her eyes. We were inseparable for months."

Sigmund's voice trailed off as if the memories again threatened to swallow him in anguish.

Ellana gave him time to collect himself, but her interest in the tale had become piqued far too much for him to stop. "What separated you?"

Sigmund's attention snapped back to her. "Duty, as always. I was commissioned to lead a force to the east to insure that the Orcs were not regrouping. They were, and their numbers had multiplied far too much for us to engage. I returned in just enough time to warn the king and get preparations underway to secure the city. Mary, oh that was her name by the way, and I spent that night together. I put her on a boat the next morning to Westfall. I instructed her to wait for me in the mountains with a small contingent of soldiers and refugees we had setup there. I never planned on joining her."

"Why not!" asked Ellana angrily.

Sigmund held a mailed glove up to calm her. "Because I planned on dying that night. I did not, but many many others did. The choice to load up ships and sail to Lorderan happened so quickly that I was on the seas heading the opposite direction of her before I knew it."

"Did you ever see her again?" Cepharion asked.

Sigmund shook his head slowly. "No. It took the Orcs almost two years to assault Lorderan and nearly another two years before the Alliance could push them back. By the time we started rebuilding Stormwind and the rest of the country it had been nearly six years since I had seen her. In that time I had not been faithful, and perhaps it was shame that kept me from seeking her out. I knew that the garrison that was placed in Westfall had never been attacked by the Orcs, and in my mind that was enough for me to know she was all right."

Ellana slapped Sigmund across the face. "You are a bastard, Sir Sigmund Corsair. You wouldn't know what love was if it bit your face off!" She stomped down the river several strides.

Sigmund rubbed his cheek tenderly. Cepharion watched him with curiosity clear in his eyes.

Cepharion broke the awkward silence a moment later. "The world is large, Sir Sigmund. What makes you feel like this Daniel Ferentide is the son of Mary Ferentide and not some other?"

"Because," Sigmund said, "He looks exactly as I did when I was his age."

Continued in the next chapter…


	15. Chapter 15

Daniel still had not grown use to the undead raft that was taking him up the river. He imagined for a moment what it would be like to be brought back to life against your will and forced to serve some twisted master. He was glad for the hundredth time in his life that he had not been a citizen of the northern kingdoms. When the Scourge had risen to power there they had done that exact thing to everyone in their path. His life had not been affected much by that war, growing up in Westfall in the Defias Brotherhood. Military recruiters had come to the villages and implored young men and women alike to go to the aid of their brothers and sisters in Lorderan. Daniel had even come close to signing, but he was no knight. Dying on some distant battlefield to protect the lives of complete strangers was not appealing to him.

At least he didn't think it was appealing. He had not known what prompted him to go to the recruitment tent of the soldiers that night. Perhaps he was afraid of the Scourge making their way to Westfall if they were not stopped in Lorderan, or perhaps he really did want to do something more noble with his life than lead thieves and murderers in raids on merchants and farmers. It was true he had never killed anyone in cold blood, but he sure had done little to stop those under his command from doing so.

Logic was his ally. He knew in his head that if he stopped his gang from killing and raping during their raids they would turn on him soon enough and it would be him with a knife across his throat. Still, the screams of the women and children woke him up almost every night.

"What is it, Daniel?" asked Magg. "You're white as a sheet."

Daniel wiped a droplet of sweat from his brow. "Oh, nothing really. Just not use to riding on a raft of animated fish bones I suppose."

Daniel wasn't joking in the slightest but Magg laughed as if he had just said something enormously funny.

She looked up at the mountains for the thousandth time since they had started their upriver journey. They towered over them now, they would arrive at the base of them soon.

A twig snapped.

Almost too late Daniel hurdled himself at Magg. He crashed into her with a thud and the two of them splashed into the cold waters. The water felt like a million pins sticking into his flesh. Magg was kicking and gulping, but he pulled her down stream with him. A split second later dozens of arrow shafts started breaking the water's surface.

When Daniel managed to pull his head above water he heard high pitched hoops and yells from the trees and bushes. He swam downstream while Magg followed.

The current pulled them downstream very quickly. Soon their macabre raft was a spot on the horizon. Daniel pulled Magg up onto the shore, but he cursed when he heard the screams of their attackers heading their direction.

Magg coughed uncontrollably for several seconds. She gagged, "W-who did it? Tell me!"

She was angry now. Daniel didn't want to be in her way when she got this way.

"Sounds like gnolls, Magg. Light knows how many. There's a tribe of them that live in different parts of the mountains."

Magg immediately launched into her profane spellcasting. Within a few seconds the deep blue form of Sazteem had materialized. It flexed its muscles and turned a featureless swirling face to Magg.

"Sazteem…kill the gnolls." Magg commanded.

The first wave of gnolls, four of them, did not know what hit them. The voidwalker glided into their midst with massive fists swinging. They each collapsed as the demon's blows landed. Each strike echoed with a wet crunching noise. They struck Sazteem with their spears and rusty daggers, but Daniel knew that unenchanted weapons would do little to even slow the voidwalker down, let alone harm him.

The next wave was bigger. Sazteem had his hands full at once. Daniel knew the voidwalker needed no assistance, but Magg and he were another issue.

"Rarr!" screamed an oncoming gnoll. Daniel's blade snapped from its hilt in the blink of an eye. He feinted to the right and spun around with an overhead swipe before the creature could get its short sword up to deflect it. The blade became embedded in the skull. Daniel cursed profusely, it was stuck.

Magg held up her hands above her head. Black fire enveloped her fingers and sent the gnolls into a panic. Gnolls were not smart, but they knew what magic was and didn't want to face it if it could be avoided.

Unfortunately for these, it could not be avoided. The flames shot from her fingertips like a volley of arrows. Some gnolls received two flaming missiles, but even the ones that received one fell to the ground in their last agonizing throes of death.

Daniel pulled his dagger out and whirled to face the biggest gnoll he had ever seen in his life. Its fur was black as night and its eyes were yellow and vengeful. It held a two handed axe over its head and was fixing to cleave Daniel in two. Magg was in the middle of preparing another volley. Sazteem was still wading through a group of gnolls.

Daniel dodged to the side but knew it was too late.

The gnoll jerked as a shining curved blade exploded from his chest. It tried to turn and see who had stabbed him, but death glossed over its eyes and it rolled forward to the ground.

Daniel did not lower his blade. A man in black and dark green leathers stood holding the curved blade and a jagged dagger. His face was hard and his eyes were so dark brown that they looked black. His equally dark brown hair was tied into a ponytail. He regarded Daniel for a moment then winked. He dashed off to aid Magg, whose latest volley had only convinced the gnolls they needed to swarm her and end the threat she posed immediately. Daniel tugged his sword free and ran to join them.

The fight did not take long. The voidwalker finished the last gnoll by punching it so hard its head exploded. The limp body fell back into the river and drifted away.

Daniel and Magg turned their attention to the newcomer. He was no stranger to either of them.

Daniel spoke first, "Vincent DeMarco. To what do we owe the pleasure of Van Cleef's primer assassin?"

Magg stared at the man intently. He stared back.

Finally he answered, "Why, I'm here to kill someone, of course."

Continued in the next chapter…


	16. Chapter 16

"_Say goodnight,_

_to the light,_

_go to sleep little Daniel._

_Dream so sweet_

_It's a treat_

_To sleep little Daniel._

_Nothing to fear,_

_Mommy is here,_

_While you sleep little Daniel._

_Say goodnight,_

_To the light,_

_Go to sleep…goodnight."_

_Daniel smiled warmly at his mother crouching over him. She wore a beautiful wedding dress with golden threads coursing through it. The thread matched her hair, falling free around her face, placing her smiling visage in a shining frame. She caressed his face gently. He could feel it on his stubble._

_He wasn't suppose to have stubble. He looked down at himself. He was a grown man, laying in his childhood cot. His mother was backing away now, towards the tent opening. There was nothing but blackness outside, death and despair. He called for her to come back but she only put her slender finger to her lips and shushed him gently. Points of red light appeared in the blackness he could see through the tent opening. Eyes. Dozens of red eyes looking at his mother. She blew him a kiss as she backed out of the tent. The darkness swallowed her. _

_Daniel screamed._

Splash!

The water drenched his head and face. Victor was standing over him with a calm look on his face, but he held the canteen that had been emptied over Daniel while he had been sleeping. Magg rolled over from her cot and looked furious.

"Are you trying to tell the entire country where we are sleeping?" She hissed.

"S…sorry. Bad dream."

Victor squinted into the night. "We are not far from the mountain you seek, Magg. Again I ask, why are you intent on going there?"

Magg narrowed her eyes at his question. "Perhaps, Victor. If you told me who you were sent to kill I might tell you why I go to the mountains. I did not ask for your company in any case."

Victor walked into the shadows a little bit. "Have it your way, warlock. I journey with you for a little while, my reasons are my own. As to my target. Not your concern, unless you push it."

The veiled threat had a profound effect on Magg. She pushed herself up to her knees. "If I suspect you mean me harm you will suffer a fate worse than death."

Victor walked into the shadows at the far side of camp. He disappeared. Magg and Daniel were both on their feet now. After a second of staring at where the assassin had just stood, Magg yelped.

Victor was standing behind her with his dagger to her spine. Daniel's sword was in his hand in an instant.

"Hold, Victor! We are not your enemies! We all serve the Brotherhood."

"My point exactly, Daniel. I am not here to kill either of you, or you would already be dead. So do not force my hand."

As he resheathed his knife he said, "Besides, having me by your side may come in handy for both of you."

The way he said it made Daniel feel like he knew something he wasn't telling them. He started to say something but Victor was already walking back out to the forest.

"Where are you going?" demanded Magg.

He did not answer. When he was gone she stormed over to Daniel. She looked at him directly in his eyes. He wanted to turn away from her, but the gaze held.

"What do you know of this man? I remember seeing him in the Defias mines, but he was a shadow at best."

Daniel smiled slyly, "What's wrong, Magg? Something about him scare you?"

Her gaze became a set of daggers. "Do not mock me, boy or I will…"

"You'll what, Magg!" Daniel interrupted, "Burn my soul, flay my flesh, have the voidwalker beat me to death? We are on the same side and something tells me we still have quite a ways to travel together so we better start getting along or its going to be a long journey! I'm no threat to you, and despite the fact you've been as cold as a banshee to me for months, I still like you for some unknowable reason…so stop with the threats already!" He stopped to catch his breath.

Magg looked at him for a moment, her face stunned. Daniel almost fell down when she started giggling. She wasn't laughing her insane demon summoning laugh, rather it was a genuine heartfelt laugh that two friends might share over a funny joke. He liked this side of Magg.

She sighed, "I am sorry, Daniel." He almost did pass out after all. "I have been a witch. I am anxious about many things and perhaps too wound up for my own good. You have been a pleasant companion and you were a good leader to your gang. I cannot promise to keep my temper under wraps, but I will try."

Daniel just stared at her dumbfounded.

"Good night." She called as she walked back to her cot. Daniel settled down too, but Magg had just did three things he never thought he would see her do in his life: laugh, apologize, and act pleasant.

He settled back into his own bedroll. He stared at the dark night and the silver moon and his mind raced. He wondered if this night could mark a new beginning in the way he and Magg got along. As if in answer to his question, her voice broke the silence.

Her tone was sleepy, it was her last words before she went back to sleep. Despite her mistrust of Vincent she obviously believed he was doing a good job at his watch. "Daniel, call me Mageline. Oh, and Daniel…" she yawned heavily, "Just so we are clear, if you truly engendered my wrath I would do none of those things you mentioned…I would let Satarra have you."

He made a mental note to never engender her wrath.

Continued in the next chapter…


	17. Chapter 17

Nearly two days had passed since Sigmund's confession at the riverbank. Neither Ellana nor Cepharion had said anything else to him about it, and he had not brought it up again. They were all convinced that the fugitives would be caught by the guards stationed along the river to the south, and had been preparing to head that direction when the gnoll's body had floated by. After deeper investigation they saw the blunt wounds on its body and Sigmund had declared at once it was the work of the voidwalker. Thus they started their journey upstream.

Ellana led the way again, though she did suspect anymore traps so long as they went along the riverside. Their quarry obviously thought they had given them the slip or they would not have been so careless about where they dumped the gnoll's body. How they had traveled against the current and made such progress was beyond her, though she suspected the warlock's foul magics had something to do with it. They were nearing mountains to the north, soon she knew they would find signs of the humans and the hunt would be on in full swing again. She looked back at Cepharion and smiled. She had no interest in leaving Kalimdor, but at her brother's insistence she had traveled the Great Sea and come this land of humans, dwarves, and gnomes. It seemed like yesterday he had told her his plan…

"_Good morning, Sister. Time to rise and shine!"_

_Cepharion's voice was playful and happy, something she always enjoyed about him except when he woke her up. His cheerful tone gave her a headache when she was waking up, and the words "rise and shine" drove her crazy! She pulled her silk sheets over her head and groaned._

"_Oh no you don't!" he called just as the sheets were stripped from her._

_She was on her feet in an instant, her toes plodding on the wooden floor of their tree house. She walked right up to him and stared up into his glowing eyes. She jammed a finger in his chest and he winced._

_She said, "Watch yourself, brother. You may be an all powerful druid, but you're about as good in hand to hand combat as a wisp!"_

_He laughed loudly, his deep voice echoing off of the walls of their small abode. He held up a wooden cup with a black steaming liquid in it. After a moment, she smiled. She snatched the hot drink from his hand and started sipping at it ravenously._

_It was a scene they had acted out dozens of times in the last few years. Ever since Cepharion had awoken from the Emerald Dream, it seemed their lives had returned to some semblance of normality. Though they now lived in Darnassus instead of in the valley of the World Tree. Each sip of the drink made her a little more lucid, until at last she was smiling and awake._

_She looked at the stack of travel sacks in the corner of the room. She had not noticed them until now._

"_What's going on, Ceph? Where are you going?"_

_He sat down next to her and draped his arm across her shoulders. "Not where am I going, sister. Where are we going?"_

_She stood up and looked at him intently, examining his facial expression to see if this was one of his jokes. It wasn't._

"_Ceph, we have duties here in our new homeland. We can't just pack up and move out. And where are you planning on us going, anyway?"_

"_Azeroth." he replied calmly._

_It was Ellana's turn to laugh now. "The planet Ceph? We are taking a trip to the planet?"_

_He rolled his eyes, something he rarely did, and only with her. "Not the planet, Ell, the human kingdom."_

_Her face hardened. "What are you talking about? You expect me to pack up and travel with you across the world to go to the land of humans?"_

_He nodded, "Well, I've already packed for you, and yes I expect you to go." He reached into his leather tunic and pulled out a rolled parchment. She unrolled it and started reading it carefully._

_After a minute she looked up, "Mistress Tyrande orders this?"_

"_That is her seal, is it not?"_

"_Yes, but why? She has always distrusted the other races, why send us to help safeguard their lands when our own lies in such peril?"_

"_Because," Cepharion said, "She has come to realize in this new world we live in that it is only through unity that the goodly races can survive. When Jania Proudmoore came to our aid in the battle with Archimonde she saw the power of unity. She believes that in sending agents such as you and I to help our allies, we will strengthen the bonds of trust and friendship we have already begun."_

"_How long will we be there?" she asked._

"_Ten years is the commission. Not so long to Night Elves."_

"_We are not immortal anymore, Ceph. But I will not decline a commission from Lady Tyrande."_

"_I know, sister, I know."…_

Ellana stopped. Her expert tracking skills were not needed to interpret the scene that lay before her eyes. Though scavengers had picked away at the bodies, several gnoll carcasses lay strewn about the area.

Cepharion and Sigmund joined her.

Sigmund spoke first, "Ellana, can you interpret what the battle signs mean. Can you pick up their trail."

Ellana went to work. In her mind's eye she started picturing the battle. She saw the warlock throwing dark spells that burst through the ranks of the gnolls. Though the voidwalker left no tracks, she could tell by the busted bodies of the gnolls where it had stood during the battle. She saw the shifted dirt where the human named Daniel must have fallen back, and the body of the gnoll that had almost killed him.

Had she looked a little harder she would have seen the toe print of the third man, but as it was his prints were too faint to see at a general glance.

She found their trail. It went in the direction of the mountain. Two sets of footprints. Daniel and the warlock. She did not wait for the others, she pushed forward and they rushed to follow.


	18. Chapter 18

The journey through the mountains was hard, almost impossible. Daniel was bleeding on his palms and knees and Magg looked too haggard to describe. Vincent was the only one that did not look too worn from the constant climbing. His clothes were dusty, but beyond that if he was discomforted by their travel he did not show signs of it. For the last day they had pushed forward with only a few hours sleep on a small ledge.

Daniel had begun to think that the arduous trip up the mountain was no longer about escaping the paladin. Magg had a fanatical look in her eyes even as she scraped herself and pushed her body pass the point of overexertion. She would answer no questions concerning where she was leading them, but occasionally she would cast a nervous glance back the direction they had come the day before. Daniel was no fool, he knew that Sigmund had somehow figured out their river trick.

He thought about betraying Magg and helping the paladin kill her. He thanked his survival instinct for that thought, and did not entertain it for long. He was a survivor, but he was not a traitor to his companions. Until Magg gave him reason to he would fight by her side. Besides, Vincent would probably take a betrayal of Magg as a betrayal to the brotherhood. Daniel didn't think he would last too long after that. Vincent was the worse, or rather the best, assassin in the entire kingdom. No one really knew about him in the outside world, but among the Defias he was a man rightly feared for his combat skills and heartless execution of his assignments. It was rumored that Van Cleef had tested Vincent's loyalties by assigning Vincent's own mother as a target. Daniel didn't buy the story, but most of the Defias gang did.

Vincent called from over the next ledge, "This is it, we are here."

Magg growled and started climbing furiously. Daniel followed. As he pulled himself up using the protruding roots from the rocky surface, he was able to peer over the edge. He nearly let go.

It was a settlement of some kind, black stones were covered with vines and moss stood hidden in the shadow of the mountain. The architecture was nothing Daniel had ever seen before. Large ivory bones were integrated into the stonework, though they were now brittle and broken with age. Daniel wondered who had made such a place so high in the mountains. Two towers stood over the ruins like aged sentries guarding a tomb. Most of the buildings were broken down in several places, but one stood untouched even by the elements. It was a temple. A black temple.

Magg cried out, "Ukthok ser jok. Kalmanor san toj!"

Daniel had no idea what she had said, but the language was Orcish. Daniel had never seen an orc up close, but he had heard many bar patrons imitating the green skinned invaders during their story telling.

Silence came back on the wind for a long minute. Vincent did not move, he simply stared in the general direction of the camp. Daniel's blade was in his hand in a second. In the doorway stood what could be none other than an orc.

He was obviously old. Very old. A long white beard hung almost down to his belt and a matching set of eyebrows almost covered his dull eyes. His head was a wrinkled bald plate of green and his back was severely stooped. He wore a tattered black robe and leaned heavily on an oaken staff as he regarded the humans.

He spoke in the common tongue with a heavy accent, "You butcher my people's language, woman. Speak it no more."

Magg looked offended but did not argue. "Greetings, elder. I have come here by the direction of the master. Did you know of my coming?"

The orc squinted his eyes at her. "I have been here alone for over twenty years, hidden from the world. I was once called Charg, I am the keeper of this temple. I have been waiting."

"Why have you been here for so long, elder?"

Charg's tone grew darker. "Better to die alone in a mountain than disobey the command of my master, woman. Now, come inside and we shall speak alone."

Daniel was relieved. He had little desire to go into the foreboding temple. Once Magg and Charg had disappeared he turned to Vincent.

"What do you make of this?"

"Of what?" Vincent replied nonchalantly.

"The orc, the temple, why Magg led us here?"

Vincent gave a slight shrug. "Lets have a look around, shall we?"

Their search turned up little. This site was apparently built by a group of orcs that had come to this forsaken site just to build. The stones were cut from the mountain on which the camp rested, but how the stones had become so blackened remained a mystery. Daniel saw that many decomposed orc bones were scattered throughout the camp. It looked as if they had died where they stood and were left there to rot.

Vincent called for him and he ran to join the assassin behind one of the towers. He stood in front of a cave. A tunnel stretched deep into blackness before them. There was no telling how far it went, but Vincent said it was where the orcs most likely came up the mountain.

"How's that?" Daniel asked.

"Tunnels." Vincent said. "Some of these mountains have tunnels that dig deep below the surface. Their neither safe nor easy to navigate, but these orcs look to have done it.

Daniel looked at the black temple. "One thing I don't get is why. Why in the world would a group of orcs come up to a mountain far away from the main force of their army and build this place? It just doesn't make sense."

Vincent walked around the tower cautiously. Daniel noted for the first time there was no door or window on the entirety of the structure.

"Someone or something made them do it."

Daniel nodded, it was the only logical explanation.

They were walking back to the entrance of the temple when a twang cut through the air. Vincent rolled forward so fast that Daniel could not believe he had done it using natural means. Despite his lightning reflexes, an arrow slid across the side of his shoulder, sending up a small spray of red across the barren ground.

Daniel turned to see one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She was a Night Elf, of that he was certain. Her hair was the color of moonlight and her skin was a light shade of purple. She had a curved bow in her hand and had already pulled back another arrow. This one was easily dodged by Vincent, though he growled in anger as it almost clipped his head.

"Stop!" Daniel called, but two more forms pushed themselves over the ledge.

One was the tall figure of another Night Elf, the druid Daniel supposed. The other was the familiar face of the Sir Sigmund Corsair.

Continued in the Next chapter…


	19. Chapter 19

"Hold your fire!" yelled Sigmund.

Ellana did not release the tension on her bowstring, but neither did she release the barbed arrow that was fitted to it. She looked at the two men with piercing eyes. She automatically saw a small resemblance to Sigmund in the one with the longsword. The other one was the target she held her aim to. She could tell by the way that one moved that he was no ordinary thug. He was too graceful, too smooth. She could shoot a bird between its eyes from extraordinary distances, but that one had dodge her shot. Barely, but dodged it still.

"Daniel, I offer you quarter, and I need to speak with you alone, but Mageline is a bigger threat than you can know. I beg you, do not stand between her and me."

Something about Sigmund's tone alerted Daniel. The paladin stood there in gleaming armor, with the glowing mace held ready, but the man did not look eager to fight. Not him at least. He found himself in a difficult position. The paladin and two night elves would be a formidable force to defeat. Frankly, Daniel did not feel they could do it even if the old orc warlock joined in the fray. Despite this, his sense of duty to the woman tugged at him. He had vowed to stick with, and he would do that no matter the cost.

"So a paladin tells me to betray my companions, then?" Daniel almost spat.

A sad look crossed Sigmund's face, "Mageline is no friend to anyone, Daniel. It is a sign of honor, one I am proud to see, that you care for your duty, but this woman will betray you at the first moment it benefits her.

Daniel laughed without lowering his sword. The girl had not released her arrow, but he wanted to be ready to dodge if need be. For whatever good it would do him. "Proud? Who are you to be proud of me?"

Sigmund stared hard into Daniel's face from across the distance. His voice cracked only slightly as he said the words, "If your mother's name was Mary, than I am your father."

Cold. The blood from his face drained and his grip on the hilt of his sword loosened a little. Suddenly the solid earth beneath his feet swayed and he had to bend his knees to keep from falling.

Sigmund nodded. "And so you are my son."

A million questions and several emotions ran through Daniel's mind like a torrential downpour.

To his surprise the druid was the one that broke the silence, "Is this woman worth dieing for, Daniel? How many more people will suffer if you sacrifice your life in order to let her escape?"

Daniel shook his head, he could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Father." The word rolled in his head like a giant ball of flame. His sense of duty struggled to convince him to defend Magg.

"Daniel, she killed your uncle. A good man that saved many in his days. She killed him in cold blood and put his head on a pole. All because I betrayed her affections. She must be destroyed or more will die.

"_What am I doing?_" Daniel thought. "_I'm not going to die for Magg or anyone else for that matter! My uncle? My father? This is too much!"_

Vincent spoke and all eyes fell on him. "I seek quarter as well, sir paladin. I have no desire to stand between you and the warlock."

"Who are you, then?" asked Sigmund with a harder edge in his voice than he had used with Daniel.

Vincent bowed, lowering his blades in the process. "I am Vincent De La Courte. I am a ranking memeber of the Defias Brotherhood and companion to your son."

Daniel was floored. Vincent had not lied. He had told most of the truth, everything except the fact that he was Van Cleef's head assassin. They both looked at Sigmund, awaiting an answer. Daniel's words settled it.

"I will vouch for him, we both surrender then."

Sigmund nodded and whispered something to the girl. She lowered her bow and strolled over to the pair.

"Your weapons, gentlemen."

Without hesitation they turned over their arms.

"Magg…Mageline, she is in the temple with an orcish warlock. I don't know what they are doing, but they have been in there for awhile."

Sigmund nodded. "Ellana, stay with these two and cover the entrance. Cepharion and I will deal with this problem once and for all.

Ellana did not look like she enjoyed that plan, but she nodded and moved aside.

Sigmund stopped in front of Daniel.

"I know you have many questions…son. I ask you to wait, and I will answer them all."

Daniel nodded his head slightly.

Sigmund and Cepharion entered the temple.

Continued in the next chapter…


	20. Chapter 20

"What is this place?"

Cepharion's tone when he asked this was sharp and appalled. Sigmund could not blame him. They stood in a long black corridor that had only the occasional torch to illuminate it. The shadows were animated and sinister and the smell of burning flesh hung in their air palatably. Sigmund's knuckles were white on his large mace. He remembered the day the Knights of the Silver Hand had blessed his weapon and he had become a full member of the order. He had used it to stop common criminals and kill vicious demons. He could handle anything this temple or Mageline threw at him. He had faith.

"It is an Orcish temple. This is where they practice their most foul rituals and confer with the darkest beings in existence. This is not the first time I have seen one, though it is my first time inside."

Cepharion held his own staff at the ready. "I have seen the Orcs before, fought alongside them against the Burning Legion. They are a savage people, but this is profane beyond comprehension. I am strong with the power of nature, but in this place my power lessens with each step I take. It is as if Nature's embrace has no place here."

The statement sent a prickle down Sigmund's spine. He did not want to worry his companion, but he too felt something weighing down on him. As if the spiritual darkness of this place was hampering his connection to the Light.

"The Orcs that constructed this place were not like the ones you know on Kalimdor. My comrades of the Silver Hand that served on Kalimdor told me that the Orc leader has returned them to their shamanistic ways. The Orcs that built this place are the same that attacked Azeroth twenty years ago. They are demon worshippers and far more dangerous than the Orcs you are use to."

Cepharion's lips tightened and he held his staff up a little higher. "So be it."

The corridor wound around like a serpent for several minutes. The outside was a clever illusion. Sigmund was use to the cathedrals of Azeroth, with their tall steeples and rectangular base. The inside of those churches always had a large open sanctuary, and the vastness of the place was known inside and out. Not so with the Orcish temple. The outside was low and square, but the inside was filled with corridors both wide and small, and everyone was constantly twisting and turning. He knew at any moment Cepharion and he would be facing Orcs…and possibly demons.

"I was part of the force that pushed the Orcs from Azeroth back into their dark portal nearly seventeen years ago. We made sure we demolished every one of these temples along with all the other Orc strongholds."

"How is it you missed this one?"

Sigmund shrugged, "Possibly because it is so high in the mountains, possibly because warlock magic shielded it from both magical and natural view. All I know is that as soon as our business here is done I will be bringing a commission of Dwarven gryphon riders up here to dismantle it."

"That would be an appropriate action I believe. Bring me with you and I will help by bringing the fury of the sky and earth upon it."

The two men nodded at one another gravely as they pressed on. Neither talked about the sick feeling that rolled in their guts. The pit that grows in every warrior's stomach before a battle.

The battle came quickly.

Two Orcs wearing nothing but leather jerkins, but both wielding wickedly curved axes came running around the corner screaming out battle cries that rang off the shadow filled corridor around them. Cepharion whispered something and a faint glow appeared around him and his staff. Sigmund rushed forward to meet them.

His mace was not as effective as he had hoped. He had to shorten his swing in the hallway and for that he sacrificed a good deal of force. The first Orc grunted as the mallet popped his shoulder out of joint. The other Orc swung at the paladin's head, but Sigmund saw the move coming. The axe clanged against the stone wall sending up a small shower of sparks.

Cepharion let loose a bolt of greenish magic. It filled the air with the coppery smell of lightening and hit the injured Orc in the chest. It fell to its knees with its eyes rolled into the back of its forehead. With a groan it toppled over.

If the other Orc was bothered by seeing its comrade die it did not show it. It came forward with its axe spinning, this time aimed for Cepharion. The druid made no move to dodge. He didn't have to. Cepharion stepped to the side and cut off the pass of the Orc. Though he had little swing room he jammed his mace forward as hard as he could. The Orc grunted in pain as the mace blasted the breath from his body. Sigmund finished him quickly.

There was little time to recuperate, another cluster of howling Orcs came running their direction. Sigmund dropped his prized mace to the ground and quickly withdrew his thorium shortsword and mithril buckler, sacrificing the mass damage the mace could cause for the more easily used blade and shield.

The group of four Orcs crashed into him like a wave. His buckler turned aside an attack, his platemail another, but he suffered wounds from the others. His shortsword found the chest of one of the Orcs and it flopped to the ground gurgling. Another set of blows were exchanged between the paladin and the Orcs. He felt something hot, then something wet on the side of his head.

A burst of green light washed over him. He felt rejuvenated and pushed forward with his attacks. A strong upward slash took down another Orc. Despite their berserker nature, the other two Orcs fell back into defensive stances. The green light did not disappear. Instead, it flowed over him in a cycle. For the next several seconds, whenever one of the Orcs landed a blow the druid's healing magic would almost completely heal it. The other two died soon after.

Cepharion held his hand up to keep Sigmund silent.

"I cannot hear their footsteps anymore. I believe we are safe for the moment."

Sigmund nodded and sat down. He uncorked a bottle of spring water and drank from it deeply. Cepharion did the same but his eyes bore into the paladin in a way they had not before.

"What is wrong? Why look at me like that?"

Cepharion did not break his gaze. "My spell allowed me to connect with you very briefly. I saw your spirit in a light I had not done so before."

Sigmund was not angry, his healing magic did the same for him. "What did you see, my friend?"

Cepharion shrugged as if to say he was unsure. "Guilt, I suppose. You are riddled with it."

Sigmund looked away. When he saw the cluster of seven Orc carcasses he turned back.

Cepharion continued, "You blame yourself for many things, Sir Paladin."

Sigmund closed his eyes, "Is this where you tell me it's not my fault, druid? That fate has brought us here, or something like that?"

Cepharion looked even harder at him. "No. This is your fault. It is right that you suffer. Though there is some time left, perhaps to salvage your relationship with Daniel. Unfortunately, it might be too late for that as well."

The paladin suddenly looked his age, and he appeared to Cepharion as a time worn traveler instead of the resplendent knight.

"Yes. It is my fault. All of my life I have faced monsters without fear, yet I could not face settling down with a woman, even one I loved. It is funny how such a little thing can bring such cataclysmic events to pass."

Cepharion's expression became angry at once. "Little thing, Sir Sigmund? Love, even the act of making love, is no simple thing. The Kaldorei hold the belief that love binds two souls together in a spiritual way that is expressed in the physical act itself. We do not love lightly, and when we choose a mate it is forever, which for us is literal. When you break that bond of love with a woman you take a part of her soul with you, leaving her less than what she was before. You may rightly hate this woman, Mageline, for what she did to your brother and countrymen, but she is right in hating you as well."

The Night Elf's words stung more than any battle wound the paladin had ever received. His face flushed red in anger for a moment, but the truth of Cepharion's words weighed to heavy on his guilty conscience to allow his petty pride to gain control of him. Though the druid looked far younger than he, he realized that the wisdom of millennia of life rested in Cepharion's eyes.

"What then can I do to be saved?" he whispered to the darkness.

Cepharion waited until the echo of the whisper faded to answer. "We kill this woman, whose soul is long since destroyed. You will then forgive your son of his criminal deeds and show him a better way. And you pray to the Light for grace to see both things come to pass."

The two men did not speak again as they headed deeper into the temple. They encountered no more opposition as they walked. After what seemed like an eternity they came into a circular chamber that was lit with torches all around. Blood stained the black stones, and strange glyphs and symbols were glowing harshly under many of those stains. Another door stood at the other end of the room. Mageline stood in front of it with a triumphant look upon her face. In front of her stood an old and worn Orc that smiled a nearly toothless smile as Cepharion and Sigmund entered.

In perfect but thick common, the Orc spoke, "Let it begin."


	21. Chapter 21

Mageline had been surprised to see the small group of orc warriors when she entered the inner sanctum of the temple with Charg. The older warlock navigated the twisting hallways with ease, most likely being the one that designed the temple in the first place. He had taken her to a dark chamber, where only a few torches flickered in their sconces, and there they were seven warriors. They all growled and hissed and withdrew their weapons when they saw her, but one harsh glance from Charg calmed them down considerably.

"I thought you said you were alone."

"I did. You do think I consider these beasts as my equals?"

It was a rhetorical question so she didn't answer. The warlock took her to a large doorway on the other side of the room. He pushed it open with one hand, though the door looked much too heavy for his decrepit muscles. He did not enter the chamber, a thick and sickly sweet smell drifted from it. "Blood." Mageline thought.

"Lord Mantorg said you would provide me with further instructions once I was here. So be so kind as to provide them."

He turned on her with a scowl. "I am not kind, nor am I here to answer your beck and call. You are as much as slave to the Pit Lord as I."

Without missing a beat she countered, "All the more reason to do what he has commanded with haste."

Charg snorted.

He stared into the dark room beyond. When he spoke his voice was instructional, and sounded to Mageline as if he had been waiting to tell it to someone. "It was at the end of the Horde's occupation of Stormwind that Mantorg came to me in a dream. He told me of the inevitable defeat of my people and told me that the Dark Portal would soon be destroyed as well. He showed me this place in the mountains, and the ways to travel through the tunnels to reach it. I commanded a fair sized regiment of soldiers, and despite what the Warchief had decreed, I pulled my troops away from the main host and came here with them."

Mageline looked around, a gray hair falling across her eye for a moment. "And so you built this place without knowing its purpose?"

"Oh I know its purposes, human. And soon you will too." Charg's sagging green face looked satisfied.

Mageline peered into the next room. There was no light.

"Am I to enter?" She asked.

"Not yet. When the sacrifice arrives you will take him into the room and slay him on the altar."

Mageline nodded. Mantorg had told her of the sacrifice.

"I will deal with anyone else that enters the temple." Charg stated.

Mageline nodded her understanding.

Suddenly a large rune on the ceiling started glowing a crimson red. Charg looked at it without any surprise in his features. He barked at the warriors in gutterspeak. They rushed off eagerly with war cries on their lips.

"They are eager for battle." She commented.

"They are dogs and fools."

Charg withdrew a curved dagger and handed it to Mageline. "Use it well. The glyphs I have carved in the sacrificial chamber are enchanted to respond to the will of the knife wielder. They are powerful enchantments, but will not last long."

She smiled as she looked over the sinister design of the blade.

"Charg?" she asked. "What will Lord Mantorg give me as a reward?"

The sounds of battle echoed down the corridors. Charg looked at her with suspicious eyes.

"I do not know, human. Whatever his will for you might be, you can be assured great power will be a part of it."

The answer was vague, but it would have to do. She would know soon enough anyway.

The sounds of battle were over.

"What can the glyphs do?"

Now Charg smiled. "Oh, you will feel it when you enter."

They turned to the doorway. Within a few minutes the Night Elf Druid and the battleworn Paladin entered.

After only a moment of silence Charg spoke, "Let it begin."


	22. Chapter 22

"Damn."

The cold wet drop of water that slapped Daniel's face was soon followed by dozens of others. A crack of lightening went across the sky and thunder followed. If the rain storm bothered Vincent he did not show it. He didn't really show anything. Daniel looked at Ellana standing a short distance away with her bow string still pulled back and the bead of her arrow still on the two men.

The rain didn't seem to bother her either.

"This your brother's doing?" asked Daniel with a wry grin on his face.

She smirked in reply. She knew Cepharion could not call a real thunderstorm into being, just small localized ones that lasted only a few minutes. This one was of the large and natural variety. Or at least she thought. The storm seemed to come out of nowhere.

"I am impressed." Said Vincent in his cool tone.

"At what?"

"Your ability to hold the string of your bow back for so long. Your arms must be tiring after so long."

Ellana gave a half shrug. "Not that it is your concern, human, but my people are masters with the bow."

"That is why you were able to kill me earlier?"

Daniel took a step in front of Vincent when he saw the flare of anger in her eyes. Was Vincent crazy?

He held up his hands plaintively. "Look. I just found out that Sigmund is my father. My head is spinning over that, could you two just not talk if you're going to argue. Ellana, if you don't mind me calling you that, I understand your need to keep an eye on us, but we aren't going anywhere while we are stuck on this mountainside, and you have our weapons at your feet. Why don't we walk around the corner here, there are some ruins we can stay in while it rains."

Ellana thought this over for several moments. After a particularly loud thunder clap she nodded and they walked to the half ruined remains of a barracks. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the remains of the orcs that once called this camp their home. She could only imagine what it must have been like living here so far from everyone else, following the orders of some mad warlock.

It was then that she noticed something. The remains of the orcs were scattered out in a peculiar manner.

Once they were inside the barracks she said something about it. "These orcs killed one another."

Vincent raised an impressed eyebrow. "You noticed that too? Beautiful and smart. I might be in love."

She was fixing to say something back or shoot him, but Daniel interjected. "What are you two talking about? Vincent, you didn't say anything about a battle when we walked these grounds earlier."

Vincent looked at Daniel without blinking for a moment. "No need to say anything, kid. The dead orcs, their rusted weapons, the way they are laying. There was obviously a battle here, but the only bodies are the orcs. Something set them off and they tore one another apart."

Daniel shook his head in disbelief.

"It's true." Ellana added.

They sat in the barracks for several minutes with nothing but the sound of their thoughts and the pattering of the rain joined by the occasional thundering. Daniel let his mind wander back to the claim of Sigmund Corsair. He hated to admit it to himself, but he was glad to find out his father wasn't one of his mom's clients. He had always assumed that, but now that he knew different his mind wandered back to the few things Mary Ferentide had ever told him about his father. She had mentioned he was a good man, but a lost one. That did not surprise him then, when he assumed it was one of the soldiers at the outpost in Westfall, but now that he knew it was such an important person in the kingdom of Azeroth…

He licked his lips. He was thirsty and quite hungry. Climbing up the mountain had taken the better part of the day, and he had not eaten in awhile. There would be plenty of time to deal with his thoughts on Sigmund, not the least of which being why he left his mom and him, later.

"Anyone have any foo…"

"Shhh!" hissed Ellana.

For the first time Daniel noticed something. It was a sound of some kind. Like mud settling in a swamp. He walked to the door.

"Damn." He said.

Outside the rain only partially hid the bones of the dead orcs pushing themselves of their own volition from the muddy ground. They seemed to be confused for a moment, looking around as if unaware of what they were supposed to do. But then they all turned in the direction of the barracks, dragging their rust covered weapons behind them.

Daniel reached for his sword, but it wasn't there. He turned to Ellana, but she did not have it either. He spun around just as the first skeleton crashed into the room, a twisted axe coming right for him.


	23. Chapter 23

"Let it begin."

Sigmund was running in their direction before the last word left the orc's mouth. He knew he should have waited to move forward with Cepharion, but he also knew the warlocks would not expect a frontal assault in the first few seconds. He had to trust that the druid would move quickly and that their weakened powers would still be enough to destroy their foes.

The orc did indeed looked surprised to see the paladin's berserker maneuver. Mageline did not.

"_Galimda Rumero!"_ she incanted.

A bolt of shadow energy slapped into his chest. His teeth ached and his body was filled with a sense of dread and cold that was almost enough to bring him to his knees. In that split second he opened his mind to the power of the Light. It should have rushed into him like a waterfall emptying into a lake, instead it casually flowed like a forest stream. It was enough. The dread disappeared and the coldness was replaced with warmth. The spell had halted him for a moment in the middle of the room, but he pushed forward again.

"Do it now, Charg!" She screamed.

The old orc raised his hands and shouted something unintelligible. Sigmund hoped Cepharion was doing more than standing there watching. He was almost to the warlocks now.

At the end of Charg's spell every rune in the temple lit up and every torch in the room turned from a healthy orange to a sickly dull green. Tendrils of smoke shot out from the ground and wrapped themselves around Sigmund's legs. He should have been able to dispel them with a thought, but now the Light trickled instead of flowed. The runes of the profane temple were working hard to cut him off from his source of power. But not his only source. He flung his oversized mace as hard as he could, it twirled for a moment in the air and smashed into the decrepit form of Charg.

He must have had some type of protection, because in the green glow of the chamber's light a sudden spark of red flickered around him when the mace struck. Still, he fell to the ground with a thump and blood began pooling under him. Sigmund had hoped the death or injury of the orc would end the power of the runes, but they showed no sign of weakening.

Cepharion made his move. From the considerable shadows sprang a large black cat. The claws of the beast tore into Mageline's robes, but she backpedaled away just as the cat made contact. She had become aware of the attack a moment before it happened, though Sigmund could not say how. A flash of red shot up wherever the cat, or rather Cepharion in cat form, tore at her. She cursed and screamed out an incantation. Sigmund pulled at his bindings futilely.

The ensuing spell stole most of the air from the chamber. A series of searing bolts of flame bombarded the area where Cepharion stood. He roared in a voice that was half feline and half Night Elf. He dashed aside, which took him out of sight through the doorway of the next room with smoke trailing from his coat of fur.

One of Sigmund's legs broke free.

Mageline, her robes torn to shreds but with little blood to show for it, ran after him. The doors shut of their own accord after she passed through them.

"No!" Sigmund shouted with all of his might.

A barely audible voice answered, "Oh yes, paladin."

It was Charg. He had pushed himself to his knees. Thunder crashed outside. The other leg broke free.

"What is going on here, orc?" Sigmund stalked towards him with his shortsword and buckler now drawn.

There was blood on the orc's lips. "You and your friends are all going to die, human. And I can go to my masters knowing I will be rewarded, not punished."

Sigmund wanted to kick the prone figure of the orc. Instead he ran past him and tugged with all of his strength on the door. It did not budge an inch.

Charg laughed, but it was a weak laugh. The orc would be dead very soon.

"You cannot get in and your friend will not be coming out. Besides, you have guests to attend to."

Sigmund started to ask the orc what he meant, but he stopped breathing and slumped down. Charg's face became a mask of death. A shuffling sound brought Sigmund's attention to the door from which he had entered the rune chamber. Seven forms stood in it. Seven shambling orcish forms.

Sigmund sheathed his shortsword and buckler and picked up his prized mace. He waded out to the center of the room and waited. The Light had become a little more than a trickle again. He blessed his armor and weapon and knew that the blows he dealt would be severe to the undead enemies walking in his direction.

With one swipe he was able to take down the first three. The return swipe knocked away a fourth. He could do nothing as the other three piled on top of him. He heard his mace clatter to the ground, and the combined weight of the bloody ghouls pushed him to the floor with it. Through the corner of his eye he could see the four he had downed already stirring to rise again. They were not supposed to get back up. The magic of the chamber was potent indeed.

He punched and pushed with all of his might. His gauntlets began to glow white hot and the blows he landed crushed bone and caused the senseless beings to stagger. Within a few moments that seemed to last an eternity he had risen and retrieved his mace. Luckily the fiends had only scratched him, his great platemail too much of a barrier to do him real harm.

He did not have time to fight enemies that arose every time they were felled. He began looking around the room for some means to take down the undead orcs or a way to get the door open and help Cepharion.

Suddenly he saw it. It was a strange rune, but familiar in its strangeness. It was like two runes placed one on top of the other. The first one appeared to be a claw with wickedly long nails scraping the second, which was a small sun. He barreled through the orcs, they had lost much of their speed and ferociousness in their undead state. He brought the whole of his considerable strength into the swing of his mace. Though the Light was but a faint trickle into his being, he poured the whole of it into the mace. A loud crack answered his strike and a howl that seemed to be partly wind and partly beast followed.

Sigmund was unsure of what happened next. He was thrown across the chamber by some unseen force, but he did not feel injured. He still held his mace, which brought him some comfort. He looked around the room, which was now covered with dust and no longer lit by the green flames. Fissures had appeared in the floor, walls, and ceiling allowing dim light to pass through, and raindrops with that. Many of the runes were dark now, but some still blazed with that sickly inner light he had come to recognize as warlock magic.

He pushed himself to his feet as the zombies dragged theirs in his direction. But now the Light was there inside of him. The full flow of it.

With a scream of determination he called forth the searing flames of truth and righteousness. The floor under their feet began to glow red and golden flames spat from the ground. The orcs fell to the ground writhing in pain, though they should not have been able to feel any in their current state. They cried in anguish, but fell silent after only a moment.

Sigmund was not happy. He had regained his power and defeated both the one called Charg and the zombies, but it meant nothing. Those things were meant as a distraction from the real battle, and in that regard they had succeeded.

He now realized they had seen the gnoll body floating in the river by Mageline's design. She had been leading them on, to this place, likely commanding her pet voidwalker to discard of the gnoll. She would not have been so careless as to send a signal to him that she was upstream instead of down. He had believed she was luring him into a trap, and so it was true. But now he realized it was not him she had wanted to trap. It was Cepharion.

He did not know why she wanted the night elf, and he knew she could not have even known the elf. As far as Sigmund knew the two had never even met. A sickening feeling settled into his gut. He could only surmise that whatever evil powers she served had directed her in this. He hoped his friend was still alive.

He walked towards the impregnable doors with determination in his stride. With his full powers returned he had a better chance of opening the doors, but there was no need. As he walked up the steps, the doors began to open with a foreboding creak.


End file.
